it’s not really the same
to feel your foreign touch
with strange hands on my body
it’s not like what i’m used to

i can tell by your gentle touch
that you’ve been through a lot
they shake like a tree’s flourescent
leaves and move down me like its
steady, swaying trunk

soon those unfamiliar hands
became my everyday craving
their loving movements make me
feel like i’m at home again

but it’s a new home and there’s
a beloved new doormat before the door
there’s new people in the home and
they are learning how to breathe again

but the house needs a little work
with its old patchy walls and
cracked, worn down counter tops
the leaky sink drips to her fast pulse

the house was so new to them
it was a new place to start again
to be able to smile without faking it
to see past the wear-and-tear
and just smile and gaze out of
those beautiful bay windows

a.d